


Box Seats

by APgeeksout



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Baseball, Gen, Missing Scene, NPT Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 16:16:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15146963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: Bucky and Shuri spend the afternoon in her lab, as transformed for his comfort.





	Box Seats

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lionessvalenti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/gifts).



“Is your team winning, White Wolf?”

He laughed quietly, at the nickname, and at the genius who could surely read the scoreboard and answer her own question. “We’ve still got nine outs to work with.”

“So, no,” Shuri said, and settled on the bleacher seat next to him. Her hair was all piled on one side of her head, a hat with a little veil perched on the other, making her one alike with the other sharp-dressed women scattered through the stands. She folded down the top of a woven pouch and offered him its contents, calling them a name he would need to hear a few more times before he gave pronouncing it a shot.

He took a pinch of what turned out to be some kind of seed, toasted and seasoned, and crunched through them, wiping his fingers off on his pants, so that he didn’t smear too much grease onto his scorecard when he marked the ground-out that made for the first out at the top of the seventh-inning.

“These are great,” he said, helping himself to another handful.

“They grow at the foot of the mountains. They’re not exactly like peanuts, I know,” she said, “but we - the Jabari especially - consider them a treat.”

The next batter walked, and he dutifully marked it on his card while she watched, curious gaze tracking back up through the first six innings worth of notations. She didn’t ask any questions, and neither did he; instead, they just sat in the stands in companionable quiet.

It was a perfect, endless summer day: the sun fell warm on his face, and a soft breeze ruffled his hair. On the field, The Dodgers turned a perfect double-play, and the crowd erupted, and kept to its feet for the stretch.

“This is incredible,” he told her, looking around the full panorama of the stadium: the players taking new places on the field for the bottom half of the inning; the crowd singing about Cracker Jack more or less in unison; the gentleman a couple of bleacher steps down sneaking a nip from a paper-wrapped bottle tucked inside his suit coat; a pair of kids pooling their pennies together as the cotton-candy vendor moved gradually through their section; a cluster of little brown birds pecking at a bag of spilled popcorn.

She smiled again. “It all came from here.” She tapped a finger to the side of his head.

They were in her lab, of course.  He knew that they were surrounded by gleaming metal, sharp instruments and whirring equipment, observation monitors and stiffly-padded chairs. Restraints.

And, yet, they were also at Ebbets Field on a glorious July-ish day. Yesterday it had been a carnival, where - even one-handed - he’d beaten each of the fixed midway games in turn as the sun dipped into a rich sunset and candy-colored glass bulbs blinked on. Other days, it had been the fire escape outside Steve’s apartment, a hilarious chalk mural climbing up the bricks at his back.  Still others, the park in Bucharest where he’d sometimes read the newspaper and fed crumbs to the squirrels and watched a pair of white-bearded men play chess on a graffiti-scarred board.

“This is the first time you’ve brought me a present,” he observed, and helped himself to another handful of seeds. “Should I be concerned?”

“You think I have no manners?” she asked, mock-offended. “Remember that you’re addressing a Princess.”

He laughed again, and let her take his hand while the holographic crowd around them reclaimed their seats.

“All my scans are complete; I have a complete map of your brain. Took longer than I thought it would,” she chirped, and stuck out her tongue when he opened his mouth as though to protest. “I came to tell you that we can start testing as soon as you’re ready.”

There was a thunderous crack from the field, and they paused to follow the arc of the ball high and clear over the wall behind left field, and then of Dolph Camilli’s route around the bases.

“Watch the rest of the game with me?” he asked, and nodded at the scoreboard, where they were tallying up the fresh run. “We’re gonna turn it around.”

She kept hold of his hand, and snagged the scorecard from his lap, carefully inking the homer into the correct space. “Of course we are.”


End file.
